


Tea With Chronus

by whiteroses77



Series: Anteros [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Smallville
Genre: Aging, Established Relationship, Family, M/M, Romance, Sequel, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:11:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteroses77/pseuds/whiteroses77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 10 of the Anteros Series.Fate has taken its toll on Clark and Bruce, but life is still good for the couple who fell in love on the planet Anteros II so long ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the closing part of the Anteros series.

TITLE: Tea with Chronus 1/4  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (whiterose)  
RATING: Anyone  
WORD COUNT: 2,565  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Fate as taken its toll on Clark and Bruce, but life is still good for the couple who fell in love on the planet Anteros II so long ago.  
Author’s note: This is the final part of the Anteros series.

~S~

It was a bright summer’s day in Smallville as he waited on the sidewalk outside the drugstore on Main Street. He caught sight of the silver haired, grey plaid shirt, and denim clad figure as he past the display window on the way out of the store. Clark stepped forward to meet him at the door. In the reflection of the glass, he saw timeworn eyes staring back, his own silvering temples, and slightly slumping shoulders under his red plaid shirt. The door opened, and his husband exited carrying the small paper bag holding his prescription. Bruce met his gaze, and shook the bag, grumbling, “Damned arthritis medication.”

Clark’s chuckle was raspy, as he looped his red plaid clad arm through Bruce’s, while teasing him, “That’s what happens when you spend years hanging around on damp and nippy rooftops.”

Bruce grumbled sullenly. Clark nudged him, “You want to go to the diner for some pie and coffee?”

His husband pinched his lips and then conceded, “Come on then, if you insist.”

He rolled his eyes with enduring tolerance. Then the two of them walked down the street arm-in-arm towards the diner, their pace now slower as age had taken its toll. 

~*~

They entered the diner, and then went and found their usual booth. His husband was still methodical even if only when obstinately insisting that they sit in the same booth every time they visited the diner, it had a view of the door and a full aspect of Main Street. Bruce winced slightly as he took a seat, and Clark urged, “I think you should take one of those pills now.”

His husband glowered, “I’m not starting popping pills…” Clark tilted his head mildly frustrated, and gazed at him over the tops of his glasses that he still wore and Bruce harrumphed, “Alfred never had to take damned pills.”

Clark smiled tightly remembering their old friend, “Alfred would never have let you see him taking them even if he did. In some ways he was as stubborn as you.” he told him.

Bruce sighed and nodded, “I’ll take them on the days I really need them, okay.”

He nodded, “Okay.”

Their peppy young waitress came over to their table, “Morning, what can I get y’all.”

Bruce glanced up at the older teenager, and said politely with a dash of his old charm, “Young lady, do you really need to ask?”

The pretty red-headed girl who had been working here during her summer vacation smiled, “Of course, the usual coffee and apple pie with a dash of cinnamon.” and then she glanced at Clark and asked, “And what about you, Mr Kent?”

He replied, “I’ll try today’s special, Mindy.”

“Alrighty then…” She jotted it down, and then turned on her heels and returned to the counter to collect their order.

Bruce shook his head, and admonished him, “You don’t even know what she’s going to bring you.”

Clark shrugged, “I don’t mind a surprise.” He added with a teasing raised eyebrow. “You know that or you should after all these years.” 

Although the medication had been a reminder of his aging, and had put Bruce into a grumpy mood, that old spark lighted his old eyes, and one corner of his mouth kicked up. After all these years, he still enjoyed Clark teasing him. It was known to bring him out of any sullen mood. His own smile lines etched his face as Clark smiled in return. He picked up his husband’s hand and kissed the gnarled knuckles that were the victim of too many fights.

From across the diner, they heard ‘Aw look at that’ directed at them. Bruce rolled his eyes, and muttered self-accusingly, “Silly old buggers.”

Clark chuckled softly.

Mindy returned with their order, smiling with fondness after seeing their display of affection too. She placed Clark’s plate in front of him, and he saw that the special was seasonal fresh cherry pie with some vanilla ice cream on the side. He said, “Thank you it looks very nice.”

Then she placed Bruce’s apple pie in front of him. 

As she went to get the coffee, he saw Bruce eyeing Clark’s plate. Knowing his husband so well, Clark offered, “You want her to bring you some ice cream too.” Bruce grimaced, and Clark offered an alternative, “You want to share mine?”

His husband met his gaze, and then shrugged, “Just a bit.”

He smiled inwardly, he knew Bruce was worried about getting older, especially putting on weight. It didn’t bother Clark so much, they were old enough now for it not to bother either of them. 

As they had got older, Clark had found his cells not being able to store as much solar energy as when he was younger, so as Bruce aged, Clark’s powers were becoming weaker with each passing year, and he was aging with his husband. Clark didn’t mind, as he’d told his husband after they had tied their fates together, he liked the fact they were growing old together.

So when Bruce had been ready to retire the Batsuit, Clark had been happy to join him and hang up his cape. However, Bruce wouldn’t allow himself to go to seed not after being the epitome of fitness all of his adult life. Even with the aches of arthritis coming on more often, his husband still takes a jog around their meadow next to the farmhouse every morning whatever the weather.

Clark halved his ice cream with his spoon and scooped half onto Bruce’s plate. Mindy returned just in time to see it. She opened her mouth to suggest what Clark had already suggested, but Clark caught her eye and shook his head. She frowned and Clark smiled in response. She smirked accepting that he knew best and then returned to the counter.

They drank their coffee and ate their pies. They chatted about what the latest contingency of the Justice League had been doing, comparing what they’d have done different in their day. Bruce mentioned making contact and making some suggestions. Clark shook his head, “I don’t think the leader of the JLA would like that…”

Bruce pooched his lips together.

He admonished gently, “You never make suggestions to the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

His husband grumbled, “The CEO is doing just fine, the company is in safe hands and besides you know business has never been my interest.”

“I know, but you can’t be looking over their shoulders, they need to do their own thing.”

Bruce harrumphed.

Clark decided to change the subject and reminded him that they’d been invited to a barbecue down the lane, at their neighbour’s house the next day. His husband nodded as he ate the last of his ice cream, licking his lips before answering, “I know, have we still got a couple bottles of that merlot?”

“I think so; you can’t have given away the whole of that crate you brought from the Manor.”

Bruce nodded along, “Remind me to remember to put a bottle of wine behind the seats in the cab before we leave home.”

Clark and Bruce heard some townsfolk chatting in the next booth. They exchanged a word or two with their neighbours about ordinary things, the weather, community gossip, and the news – none of them knowing that two of their neighbours were regularly in the news until a few years back. One of the women was saying to another, “Did you see the pictures in People magazine, that Ryan Wayne sure is a looker.”

“Uh-uh the ladies sure do love him, but he’s young enough to be your son, Sarah.”

The mature woman pouted and shrugged, “With his money and looks I’d be his momma, if he wanted.”

The other women laughed, and whooped.

Bruce caught Clark’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Clark snorted. One of the women heard him, and leaned over the back of the booth and asked, “How about you two fellas, what you think of him?”

His husband cleared his throat, “Fine looking young man.”

Clark smiled, “Must have good genes.”

Bruce reflected his smile, “You can say that again.”

~*~

Later on Bruce went over to get a drink from the counter, and as Clark waited, he saw Mindy pointing at him and urging a young man towards him. He recognised the neighbour boy, he appeared unsure. Finally Jack got up and walked on over. Clark looked up and glanced over the young man standing before him; habitually he adjusted his glasses and asked him, “What can I do for you, young man?”

Jack smiled, “Hey Mr Kent, um I don’t know if you know, but I’ve been doing like odd jobs around folk’s houses and things, for a summer job, you know…” Clark nodded for him to continue, “Um well, Mindy thought that maybe you and your… um you and Mr K might need some help around your place.”

He remembers when they first moved to Smallville, because the Kent family had always been in the area, everyone just automatically called his husband by his family name. He remembers how the people in Gotham had assumed he’d be Mr Wayne just after they got married. The surprising thing was Bruce hadn’t minded and never corrected them.

Clark breathed gustily, not sure what to tell him. The boy probably needed money to take a girl on some right special dates. He glanced across and saw Bruce getting the drinks. He glanced at Mindy, looking so eager to help. Clark realised she was probably Jack’s girl, and she wanted to help both her boyfriend get a job, and the two old kind gentlemen who she was trying to look out for. Clark glanced back, and reflexively looked over the young jock’s fit body. He glanced back to Bruce who was now standing motionless watching them halfway back. He thought to motion him over and ask his opinion, but then he saw something in his eyes, something he hadn’t seen for a very long time, he saw a kernel of jealousy there. 

It was a ridiculous notion, even if the lad swung that way as if that pretty young thing would be interested in him nowadays, he was old enough to be the lad’s grandfather, but it didn’t stop the look in his husband’s eyes. For one irresponsible but delightful moment, Clark stood up and then he reached out and he ran his aged hand over the firm young flesh of Jack’s shoulder and bicep. He smiled, “Call in and we’ll try and figure something out.”

The young football player grinned brightly at him, and ran his hand through his dark head of hair. “Thanks Mr Kent.” and then he stepped backwards and went back over to his girlfriend.

Mindy smiled widely, and poked her boyfriend, “See, didn’t I tell you.”

Clark took a breath and then returned his gaze to his husband; he was delighted to see it had worked. The jealousy still there had flared up. The jealousy was as misplaced now as it was the first time he’d seen it, so long ago on a planet far away. Clark smirked at him, and then walked over. Bruce said just one thing questioningly, “Clark?”

He revealed, “Jack’s gonna come around to the Farm.”

“What for?” asked strained.

“Oh, I think I can find him something to do.” He said with make-believe lecherousness.

Clark watched as Bruce bowed his head, and uttered, “Let’s get out of here Clark. I want to go home.”

He winced internally, he could tell by his body language that he had somehow gone too far, and his husband had taken his teasing and taunts to heart. He wanted to tell him it was just him being silly but now wasn’t the time, not in front of their neighbours. So he nodded in agreement and they went and said goodbye to the other patrons as they left.

They drove the distance from town down the country lanes back home in silence and pulled into their own gravelled driveway. 

As soon as they pulled up, Bruce got out the truck and headed for the house, and went inside. Clark looked up into the sky and sighed, “Oh Bruce.”

Clark collected the arthritis medication from the cab of the truck and then made his way up the porch steps, and entered the kitchen door. He glanced around, and checked the den but couldn’t see Bruce. He sighed, he put the paper bag on the kitchen worktop and went and switched the kettle on. 

He made them a pot of tea, and still Bruce hadn’t shown his face.

He tutted and then went and climbed the stairs a little stiffly holding onto the rail. 

He found his husband in their bedroom, standing gazing at the oversized blown up photograph above their headboard. It had been taken decades ago by their photographer friend Jim Olsen. Old Jimmy had been bashful about their request, but it had needed a discreet and professional photographer to do the job and later in life, Jimmy had become a renowned photojournalist winning awards for his photographs. The roll of film was taken after they had returned from their third anniversary vacation. The photo above the bed was black and white, tastefully lit. The two figures were standing face to face, body to body, nude, the young dark haired handsome figures holding each other close, the lighting showing every dip and curve of muscle on the pair. 

Clark watched his partner contemplating the athletic figures. Then he cleared his throat and said encouragingly, “I’ve made some tea.”

Bruce nodded distractedly.

Then his husband said quietly, “I do understand, the Hudson lad is a very pretty boy.”

He agreed, “He is.” 

Then Clark walked over and joined Bruce gazing at the artwork above their bed. He gazed at the two nude lovers in a powerful but loving embrace. Then he said, “You were beautiful.”

He heard Bruce sigh noisily. 

Clark smiled softly, “You still are.”

A little chuckle bubbled up and escaped his husband’s lips. He turned and saw Bruce was gazing at him, his lips quirked, “You liar.” he accused softly.

He reached out and put one of his arms around his husband’s shoulders, and said, “Come on I’ve made tea.”

He tried to guide him to the door but Bruce resisted, and he gathered Clark up in his arms almost mirroring the photo behind them. Clark smiled softly and then he leaned in and he pressed his careworn lips to Bruce’s chastely. He pulled away slowly. However, Bruce cupped his head, and brought him back and kissed him again a little more intently.  
Clark sighed softly, and smiled as Bruce pulled away. He reached for his wrist and kissed the uncovered mark of their commitment, their silver thread that bound them together, these days neither of them hide their ‘tattoos’ under their watches.

Bruce gazed at him lingeringly, and then tilted his head, “Let’s go downstairs, and get that tea.”

 

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Tea with Chronus 2/4  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiterose  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,907  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.   
SUMMARY: Clark and Bruce are reminded of their past passions. 

~S~

They were in their tent, half clothed only wearing loincloths, and drunk. Clark laughed some more as they both drank another glassful of Anterian wine from their metal goblets. They were both tousled haired and Bruce looked so beautiful bathed in the amber light of the lantern. He reached out and ran his fingers over Bruce’s strong naked chest, and asked his husband, “So … what do you want to do?”

Bruce goaded teasingly, “We’ve been here on our anniversary honeymoon for almost week, the red sun has finally taken your powers, so the question is…”

Clark licked his lips with naughty excitement.

Bruce’s lips quirked and he reached out and he cupped Clark’s crotch, squeezing his erection. His lover leaned over and then as their lips met he hummed into his mouth. Before Clark had chance to deepen the kiss Bruce slipped away. He stood up, and reached for the canteen of wine. As Bruce drank from his goblet, he offered Clark a fill up, but Clark was ready for something else, and he moved and kneeled up on his haunches in the furs. He grasped Bruce’s waist and pulled him to him. Then his hands were at Bruce’s loincloth attacking it.

Bruce swore and held still until Clark had released his hardening cock. Then he tossed the loincloth away. Clark wrapped his fist around the hard length and he stroked it. He enjoyed feeling the hard flesh knowing he was the one who caused it. He bowed his head and he took the head between his lips, and played with it there. Then he licked it slowly and savouring it and his lover moaned hoarsely. Clark glanced up and he met his gaze and said lustfully, “I don’t want another drink I want you to fuck me with this.” he licked it, “I want it.” 

He sucked it. 

He hummed around it.

Bruce let out a shuddering groan. He took a last gulp of wine, and then dropped his empty goblet down on the floor and then leaned forward slowly; Clark closed his eyes waiting for the kiss. Suddenly Bruce’s hands were on him, and then his husband took him down to the fur lined floor with ease. Clark gazed up at him, panting, as his cock was already causing a bulge in his loincloth from sucking his lover’s cock. 

Then he was manhandled onto his front, before Bruce crawled up behind him on the fur lined floor. Bruce’s hands grasped his hips and pulled Clark up onto his hand and knees, positioning him. Then his deft hands were untying Clark’s loincloth and pulling it away. Being here on this alien planet definitely made sex different, rougher, but incredible in its own way.

Loving the thrill of being manhandled by the man he loved, Clark’s cock sprang out aroused and heavy. 

Eagerly Clark braced his hands as Bruce got out the little jar of Anterian lube. He groaned as Bruce pressed his slick finger inside, making sure that there was enough lube and slickness there. They knew they didn’t need a lot; Anterian lube was actually really great.

“Are you ready?” Bruce asked huskily.

He replied, “You know I am.”

Bruce thrust his fingers in and out and asked, “Are you sure?”

“Stop fingering me and put that gorgeous cock in my ass.” Clark hissed, “Don’t play about.”

His lover kissed one of his ass cheeks and laughed dirtily against him, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

He grinned fiercely; he knew Bruce was just as hard as he was; he’d made sure of it. He almost begged with need but with a teasing lilt, “Damn I’m ready baby please tell me that big cock of yours is ready for my ass?”

Clark’s thoughts stuttered to a stop as Bruce grasped his hips and he thrust his cock into him hard and fast. Clark cried out in tormented desire, “Oh shit, yes oh shit yes.”

His lover made him arch for it and Clark complied because he wanted it so much, needed it. “Yes.” he groaned.

His lover growled, “Rock back for it. Show me you want it.”

Clark pressed his hands to the floor, and rocked back and met his thrusts. Bruce grunted at his own impacts. Clark’s own cock was hard and throbbing between his legs and he reached for it and fisted it. Bruce grasped a handful of Clark’s hair at the nape as he thrust his turgid length into him with a hard and fast rhythm. Bruce growled again and again, “Oh god yes.”

He gasped on every impact and soon the passion filled Clark’s body, and he bowed his head, his tousled hair falling over his sweaty forehead and his arms shook with the strain from his own responses, he trembled and gasped desperately, “B please.”

His lover caressed his quivering body with his hands and then he withdrew gently. Clark moaned and he collapsed to the bedding and he turned over and met his lover’s sweat soaked gaze. Clark panted hard, then spread, and raised his legs in offering. Bruce moaned softly. He slipped in between Clark’s thighs and pushed his cock back inside him, hit his prostate, and Clark cried out loudly, grasping Bruce’s sweat slicked back. Bruce asked gutturally, “You okay?”

He nodded back against the blankets and gasped, “Yes.”

His lover withdrew to the tip and thrust in hard again, and asked, “Yes?”

He whined, “Yes.”

He did it again, and asked again.

Again, he answered, “Yes.”

When he did it again, Clark gasped desperately, “Bruce!”

Bruce asked passionately, “What?”

Clark gazed up at him with tenderness and lust and told him, “I love having your cock inside me.”

His husband leaned in close and kissed him sensually. His kisses trailed to Clark’s jaw and then his neck and then he whispered in his ear, “I love having your cock inside me too.” and then began moving inside him again, a slow grind. 

His lover grasped his jaw, and they shared a wet and panting kiss.

~*~

Clark awoke feeling caught between two worlds, two decades, he glanced at the clock on the night table, and grumbled seeing it was only two o’clock in the morning. He groaned softly remembering his dream, or more accurately the memory of their fifth anniversary vacation on Anteros II.

He found he was rock hard as he lay under the sheets with a mist of sweat drying on his aged flesh. He licked his lips, palmed his length through his pyjamas, and groaned softly, “Hmm shit.”

In the darkness of their bedroom, he chuckled roughly remembering how libidinous they’d been when they were younger, especially when driven by Anterian wine. He groaned feeling the ache between his legs that the dream had stirred. In the dusky bedroom, disturbed by his wakefulness, beside him his husband asked sleepily, “What’s going on?”

Clark unconsciously hummed, “Just a dream, go back to sleep.”

He heard Bruce let out a gusty mildly annoyed breath, “About what?”

“Our fifth anniversary.” He breathed noisily. 

Then Bruce reached for the lamp on the nightstand and switched it on. In the pale light, Bruce’s timeworn eyes gazed at him with scrutiny, and then his gaze dropped, and he saw the rumple in the bedding. He uttered softly, “Clark?”

He chuckled with bashfulness, “That was a great vacation.”

His husband swallowed to wet his dry mouth, and then he reached out and he pulled the sheets off, and saw the bulge in Clark’s pyjama bottoms clearly. He glanced up and met his gaze, and Clark recognised that look in his eyes and he swallowed roughly, “Bruce?”

Then his husband’s murmur was raspy, “Show me.”

Clark’s chest heaved. 

Then he dragged the material of his pyjama bottoms down. He revealed the thickness of his length that was getting harder with every second that his husband stared at it. Clark chuckled roughly, “You’ve been looking at me for over forty years, haven’t you had enough yet?”

Rumbled from his throat, Bruce said, “Never, it’s just as hard and beautiful as it’s always been.”

He shook his head unsettled by his husband’s interest and licked his lips, “A cup of cocoa before bed usually suits us these days.”

Bruce nodded in concurrence, but then he reminded, “But Clark you’re the one with the hard on.” Then he reached out, and pulled Clark’s erection back and let it go, and it slapped back against his bare belly. 

Clark hissed, and then he reached down, and palmed his own cock. 

In response, Bruce reached out and stopped him, pulling his hand away from it purposefully. He glanced up at him a second before his husband groaned and leaned sideways in and licked the head of Clark’s cock. Clark’s eyelashes fluttered, and he breathed, “Bruce.”

Bruce groaned again, and moved his hand and he lifted Clark’s cock upright, and rumbled from his throat, “Oh yes.” before sucking the head into his mouth. 

He moaned softly, and his fingers curled into his husband’s silver hair. Bruce hummed around his cock at the encouragement from him. Clark’s eyes rolled back from the pleasure as Bruce began bobbing his head, using decades of experience to work Clark’s cock. Knowing what he liked, and how to push him over the edge. Bruce’s fingers cupped, and rolled his balls, and he encouraged Clark to fuck his mouth. 

Clark did what he wanted it was what Clark wanted too. He let out a cry, as his husband ravenously moaned around his girth. Then he watched as Bruce struggled to get free of the tangled bedclothes, but at the same time never leaving his task. When he was free, he desperately pushed his free hand down his own pyjamas, releasing his fully aroused cock. His groan of relief as he fisted his length reverberated around Clark’s heavy flesh.

He thrust his cock into his lover’s skilful mouth, and he moaned hoarsely, “Sucking my cock still turns you on, huh?”

His lover pulled off, his eyes gleamed with his old fire, his lips kicked up, and he confirmed huskily, “Yes…” he licked pre-come from the head, “Hell yes baby.”

In any other situation, he’d have laughed off the endearment of youth, but right now, the years had dissipated, and he wanted his husband just as much as at any time in their lives together. He smiled fiercely and sincerely, “Yes Beautiful.”

In reaction, Bruce pulled back and swallowed hard, and then glanced up at the artwork above their bedstead, the young lovers’ shadowy with the meagre light of the bedroom. Then without a word, Bruce slipped away. He got out of bed and left the bedroom. Clark frowned in confusion, until through the wall he heard the shower turn on next door. He shook his head at his husband’s increased sensitivity to anything highlighting his age.

He left their bed, and he headed for the bathroom. He opened the door, and saw Bruce was in the shower, he wasn’t getting washed; he was just standing there with his naked back against the tiled wall, letting the spray fall on him. Clark sighed, and dropped his pyjama bottoms and then he approached and stepped into the shower. Bruce grumbled and winced at his arrival. Clark chuckled, and questioned, “You thought you could hide from me in the shower, old man.”

He saw Bruce’s jaw tense against the strong emotions he was feeling, that he was internalising.

Clark tilted his head, and asked, “You got a problem with old people…” Bruce just stared at him, and Clark shrugged, “I guess if that’s how you feel no wonder you walked out on me, if I’m too much of an old codger to want anymore.” 

Bruce’s eyes widened, and he denied adamantly, “You know that’s not true, I’ve always wanted you. I always will whilst I have breath.”

He’d got the reaction he was looking for, knowing it was there under the surface and he reached down for his still inflated desire, and he showed it to his husband. “You think I should be ashamed that I let some old geezer suck my cock, and that I loved it?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, and his worn lips kicked up at the edges, “You’re teasing me aren’t you?”

He let his smile show, as he repeated a line from so long ago, “Teasing would imply you’re not going to get what you want.”

His husband smiled softly but with so much emotion, “I’m being a silly old fool, aren’t I?”

Clark held his gaze, and stepped forward; he lifted his own careworn hand and ran it up over Bruce’s stomach and chest, through the sparse wet silver hairs that had sprouted there as they’d got older, and then stopped over his heart. He nodded, but he smiled, “My silly old fool.”

He tilted his head and he kissed his lover’s lips under the spray of the shower. Bruce’s hand reached up and he cupped Clark’s head and returned the kiss. He embraced him tighter, and their bodies pressed together. Bruce caressed his jaw, pulled away gently, and told him, “I want you.” 

He gazed at him speechlessly.

Bruce’s brow creased, and he said earnestly, “Please Sweetheart.”

His breath staggered, then he shook his head, and he cupped Bruce’s jowly face, and kissed him passionately. Then he whispered, “Always.” Then he chuckled, “But not in the shower huh, we don’t want to take a fall and hurt ourselves.”

~*~

As they rocked together on the bed, their gasps and pants were coming with every movement, intense and slow. Clark had started to think that their old fire had simmered down into a loving companionship, but his body connecting to his husband’s, being inside Bruce, and the way Bruce’s body still responded to his, made him realise their age didn’t make a bit of difference. Their passion was always going to be the same; the sensual side of things wasn’t over between them, not by a long shot. Knowing they both had excellent memories, he smiled against Bruce’s ear, “Fun but meaningful, huh?”

Bruce let out a panting laugh, and revealed, “It’s always been meaningful with you.”

Clark murmured saucily, “How about fun?”

Bruce smiled, and then suddenly, he gazed up above the bed, and then gasped, “Will you fuck me on the ceiling like you used to?”

He grinned wildly, as he gazed down into his lover’s excited eyes, bright with need and desire. Even though his powers were weakening with age, he knew he could still grant his husband’s wish. Bruce jumped a little in surprise, before smiling lasciviously at him, as they left the bed. 

Holding him close, he floated them up, and then turned in mid-air so Bruce’s back was against their bedroom ceiling. Bruce chuckled with wonder and excitement. Bruce gazed down at the upside down farmhouse bedroom and he groaned, “Fantastic.”

Clark laughed and kissed him, “Thank you.”

His lover laughed into his mouth, as Clark thrust his turgid cock into his still desirable ass. Bruce whined with need and then he braced his hands and feet on the ceiling and bucking down onto his cock. They laughed and panted together.

They’d both been turned on too long for it to last too long. He’d already been on the edge when Bruce was sucking his cock. Bruce desperately stroked his own cock. 

When Bruce was close to coming, Clark floated them back down away from the ceiling, Bruce asked disconcerted, “Why?”

Clark murmured in his ear, “You don’t want come stains on our bedroom ceiling do you?”

“Nice memento.”

“You don’t need a memento, we get to have this any time you want.”

Bruce’s disappointed face, turned to a frown of confusion and then delight as he realised that they weren't actually going back down to the bed, they were just floating in mid-air. Clark was now hovering flat on his back with Bruce laying over him, chest to chest. His husband thighs wrapped around him and Bruce grasped Clark’s head and kissed him passionately as Clark continued thrusting up into him. 

As Bruce’s legs tired, Clark used his strength to move him up, and down on his hard flesh, thrusting up to meet him, the need for completion the only thing that mattered. They came with hoarse cries of pleasure.

After they finished coming, he floated them down to their bed, and they recovered in each other’s arms.

Clark withdrew carefully, and Bruce sagged against Clark. Clark turned his head and kissed him and Bruce smiled sated. They couldn’t even be bothered going to get cleaned up. Bruce covered them with the bedclothes; Clark looked questioningly as he snuggled them down into them, then Clark’s eyebrow rose teasingly, “We’re finished for the night huh?” 

Bruce shook his head and uttered quietly, “Let’s have a little rest.”

“I remember when that would’ve been the first round.”

Bruce stroked Clark’s cheek, saying exhaustedly, “Maybe later.”

It had been hot and heavy and his ass was probably throbbing a little, Clark nodded mostly to himself, Bruce knew he understood what that was like. They had spent many vacations on Anteros II over the years. 

They fell asleep in each other’s arms within minutes.

 

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Tea with Chronus 3/4  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiterose  
RATING: Anyone  
WORD COUNT: 2,883  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: It’s another day on the Farm, and they get a visit.

~*~

The following day, as Clark prepared breakfast, his husband arrived downstairs, wearing sweats, ready to go for his morning jog before breakfast. They met each other’s gazes, and Clark saw that sparkle in his husband’s old eyes. Bruce nodded to himself and unconsciously licked his lips. Clark smiled slowly, knowing they were both remembering the night before, when they’d kindled the kind of passion that was so evident in their younger years. Clark teased, “I didn’t know you still had that in you, old man.”

Bruce’s smile was small and bashful, “You wasn’t bad yourself Sweetheart.”

Then Bruce approached and saw the frying food that Clark was cooking. He winced. Clark reprimanded, “We deserve a reward for last night…”

His husband shook his head bashfully but didn’t argue the point. He complimented, “Smells good Clark.”

Clark grinned, and requested, “Come over here.”

Bruce approached him and Clark opened his arms, folded them around his husband’s sweatshirt clad shoulders, and squeezed him to him. He was embraced tightly in return, as they pulled away Bruce’s eyes were smiling at him. Clark leaned in and kiss him sweetly, and then turned towards the stove where the food was cooking. As he focused on the frying pan, he felt Bruce sidle in behind him and wrap his arms around his waist. Clark smiled to himself but admonished teasingly, “Behave yourself.”

His husband hummed and pressed himself against Clark’s denim covered ass.

Clark laughed softly, thinking how a touch of jealousy and a hot dream could reinvigorate a sex life. Bruce groaned softly hearing his laughter, and bended his knees and pressed in even closer. Clark hissed softly, and then reached out and pressed his hands to the work surface next to the stove and braced himself enjoying the divine pressure. Bruce murmured in his ear, “Still so sexy after all these years.”

His husband’s hands left his hips and his hands ran up over Clark’s stomach and up to his chest and Clark arched against those hands.

He was seconds away from turning the stove off and succumbing to his husband’s silent offer, when his hearing caught the sound of the sonic boom. The back door opened, the leader of the Justice League entered with his red cape twirling behind him, his blue eyes widening behind his black cowl, as he saw the two of them in each other’s arms. 

Bruce groaned into Clark’s shoulder and Clark straightened up, he glanced bashfully at the superhero. Hesperus blinked slowly and then shook his head at them. Bruce grumbled and stepped away. Clark sensed the undercurrent in the air and narrowed his gaze. He asked, “What’s going on, why…?”

Hesperus tensed his jaw, his gaze locked on Bruce and said lowly, “If you’ve got some suggestions talk to me, don’t go leaving messages that the rest of the League will see.”

The retired-superhero shrugged, “I wanted to make sure the suggestions got through.”

Clark didn’t know what Bruce had messaged to the Watchtower, but sighed, “Oh Bruce.”

“Don’t oh Bruce me. It’s about the mission not favouritism.”

Hesperus shook his head and his arms folded over the symbol that covered his powerful chest, and said wryly, “A little favouritism would be nice, old man.”

Bruce glanced at Clark and then back to the leader of the JLA, and he snorted, “Favouritism… ha… you know how much I love you boy.”

Clark watched lovingly as Hesperus’s lips turned up at the corner, and then his smile became bright and wide, “I love you too D.”

Clark chuckled relieved that the situation had dissipated, but he saw the scowl of exasperation on his husband’s face.

He remembered fondly, when Ryan was coming up to his first birthday…

Clark arrived home from an emergency callout, and found his husband sitting on the couch in the living room, with Ace lying on the floor at his side as usual. Bruce could never stay down in the cave for long until after his baby boy had been put to bed. Ryan was on the carpet in front of the hearth, he was lying over Guardian using the young dog as a teddy bear and a pillow at the same time. The white dog was completely at ease with his little master, never knowing any different. Bruce was trying to encourage the black haired blue-eyed boy, “Come over here Ryan. Come to Daddy.”

Guardian pricked up his ears to the words, and gazed expectantly at Bruce. Bruce noticed and warned, “You stay there Guardian.”

Guardian whined softly, wanting to jump up, but he managed to restrain himself. Ace opened an eye and grumbled at the other dog.

Ryan ignored his father, and rubbed his face against Guardian’s soft white fur and laughed at the tickle.

Bruce tried again, “Come to Daddy, Ryan.”

The little boy just repeated his tickle making actions and laughed some more. Bruce groaned exasperated. Clark chuckled, and came around the couch and took a seat with his husband. Bruce grumbled, “He doesn’t listen to me.”

Clark grinned, saying, “He does listen. He’d just rather do his own thing.”

“Stubborn.” Bruce stated.

He leaned in and kissed his frustrated husband. He smiled slyly to himself and then he trailed his lips from his husband’s lips to Bruce’s neck, he brushed them lightly over his skin and Bruce laughed at the tickle. Clark murmured, “See you like tickles too.”

Hearing his daddy’s laugh caught Ryan’s attention, and he used Guardian as a brace and then pulled himself up to his feet. He laughed, then ran a wobbly run over to the couch, and then grasped Bruce’s knees so he didn’t lose his balance when he got to them. Bruce grinned proudly, and scooped the little boy up into his arms, and into his lap, “Do you like tickles mister?” then Bruce blew a raspberry against Ryan’s chubby neck. The little boy shrieked and giggled all at the same time.

Clark smiled lovingly.

Ryan found his gaze, and reached out with grasping hands, “Dada.”

He opened his arms, and Ryan took the hint, and crawled out of Bruce’s arms and into Clark’s. Ryan smiled a gummy smile, and Clark leaned in and rubbed their noses together, as Ryan cupped Clark’s face in his hands.

Beside them, Bruce half complained, “He manages to say dada to you, but he won’t say daddy to me.”

As consolation, Guardian ambled over and sat in front of Bruce, and put his chin on Bruce’s knees. Bruce flicked a glance at the dog, and grumbled, “I thought I told you to stay put.”

Guardian whined, and then nuzzled Ace instead.

Clark always found Bruce’s competitiveness for their son’s affections amusing; he knew he wasn’t really jealous only a little anxious. He coaxed, “It’s probably because the words are so similar he’s having trouble, it’ll come in time B.”

On his lap, Ryan wiggled about, and then gurgled, “Bee.”

Bruce’s eyes widened in surprise and fear, and he said gently, “No, Ry. Daddy not B.”

Ryan gathered himself up, and threw himself into Bruce’s arms, “Bee, Bee.”

Clark burst out laughing, and his husband glowered at him as he cuddled the little boy. He pulled back and met Ryan’s gaze seriously, “Now listen Ry, I’m daddy.”

The baby just stared at his father.

Then Bruce sounded it out, “Dad-dee, dad-dee.”

Ryan’s bounced on Bruce’s lap, “Dee, Dee.”

Bruce groaned under his breath, and Clark leaned in and gave him a consolatory kiss on the cheek, “I think that’s the best you’re going to get for now B.”

Then Ryan copied his dad and he leaned in and kissed his daddy’s cheek in a slobbery kiss. “Dee.”

Against own grumbles, Bruce cuddled the boy, “It’ll do for now.”

His attention returned to the present, and he asked their grown up son, “You staying for breakfast?”

Ryan reached for his cowl and lifted it from his head. He ran his fingers through his messy black hair, “Go on then, then I have to get back.” 

There was a breeze and a second later, Ryan was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. He sat down at the breakfast counter, and met Clark’s gaze, then his eyes crinkled at the edges, “I didn’t realise you and D were still, you know.”

He pinched his lips, and shrugged, “You can’t keep two good men down.”

Ryan cringed, “That’s a little more info than I needed, Dad.”

Bruce grumbled and took a seat next to their son, “You’ve got room to talk; we heard you were in People magazine.”

Their son chuckled, “Heard… you must be losing your touch, I thought you’d be their first to know.”

His father glowered at him, and Ryan relented and patted his daddy on the shoulder, “Okay but I’m just living up to the legend.”

Bruce grumbled. He couldn’t deny the things he got up to for the sake of his façade before he brought his husband back from Anteros II.

Clark smirked and returned to the stove. He remembered, thirty years ago during an Apokolipic attack, Darkseid’s minions had among other things made him think he was married and going to have a baby with Lana Lang. Until then Clark and Bruce had happily provided shelter and guidance to a number of kids who needed help in some way, he’d loved them, he still did, all of them now coming up to retiring from the superhero business themselves soon. 

However being subjected to the phantasm had put the idea in his head, and he’d told his husband and it had created a quiet yearning in his husband’s heart to have a child with him. 

After slogging out the future of the Earth with Darkseid, he spent the next few days filling his husband in on what he had seen in his mind. He remembers Bruce’s surprise as he revealed the contents of the phantasms he’d experienced, when he’d told him that his own subconscious had even named the baby if he was a boy. Wayne Jonathan Thomas Kent, it was a good strong name, and for the months after their agreement, that was what they were going to call the little boy growing inside the birthing matrix inside the Fortress of Solitude. They’d considered a surrogate mother, but with the technology of the Fortress, the capability of having a child that was solely theirs, exactly half of each of them seemed the obvious choice.

As Clark put out the breakfast on three plates, with his husband and son chatting about the suggestions Bruce had for the JLA, Clark smiled silently at the pair. Ryan had inherited equal amounts of attributes from his fathers. He had his daddy’s focus for the mission, he took his role as the leader of the JLA seriously, but he could see the idiosyncrasies of their lives and find the joy in them like his dad, and he had the love and respect of his teammates and the general public.

When he was born they knew he was going to grow up with most of Clark’s Kryptonian abilities, Bruce had felt a relief that his son wouldn’t have to deal with human frailties. 

As Bruce had lifted him out of the matrix and then passed over the bundle, and he held his baby for the first time and caressed his soft bald head, a memory had sparked. A memory from so long ago, a boy who had come into Clark’s life, a boy who loved superheroes, who if he hadn’t died might have been his foster brother. That’s when Clark had changed his mind, that’s when he’d asked his husband if they could call their son Ryan.

After Clark had told his husband the story of his friend, Clark’s first loss, the first person that with all his powers Clark hadn’t been able to save and what his young friend had meant to him, Bruce had agreed and compromised, so Wayne Jonathan Thomas Kent had become Ryan Jonathan Thomas Kent-Wayne. 

He placed their breakfasts on the table. Their strapping son took his seat at the table, as did his husband. 

Their son grew up to be a Wayne. He still lived at Wayne Manor, and enjoyed the life of a philanthropist and a ladies man, if the reports in People magazine were anything to go by. He watched with pride as Ryan attacked his breakfast with the heart and appetite of a Kent. 

He smiled remembering when Ryan had reached maturity and Hesperus had shown himself to the world, he’d honoured both fathers, he wore his red cape and S-shield with pride, but he wore a black suit, and gauntlets and a cowl to hide his human identity, yet the whole world knew Hesperus was Ry-El of the House of El, Superman’s heir.

As Clark joined his family to eat his breakfast, the door suddenly opened again, and the curtains fluttered at the backdraft. The beautiful statuesque raven flowing haired figure put her hands on her blue clad hips. She stared at them incredulously and then rolled her emerald colour eyes behind her black domino mask. “Having a nice breakfast?” she asked.

Bruce frowned, and asked, “What’s the matter Sweetie?”

The superheroine grumbled, and then in a blink of an eye, and a swish of her red cape she was dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt tied around her slim mid-drift, with her black hair in a pony-tail. She approached Bruce, and then leaned over and kissed his cheek, “Nothing Daddy.”

She leaned in and gave Clark a hug, “Hi Dad.”

“Hi honey.” he greeted her.

She shook her head with exasperation at the men in her family, and went over to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup of coffee. She grumbled, “I saw Daddy’s memo, and I thought…”

Clark smirked, “You thought you were coming here to play peacekeeper huh?”

Mara Kent-Wayne rolled her eyes again, “Yeah.”

Ryan replied, “Thanks but I think I can hold my own.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at his son’s words and Mara glanced between her father and her brother, and scoffed, “Yeah right.”

Clark chuckled in response. Their daughter had always been a daddy’s girl, and from the moment, she uttered her first proper word, ‘Daddy’ Bruce had encouraged her cleverness, to the point that his little girl was now the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, when she wasn’t flying around as her alter-ego that was. When she’d made her public debut, her Auntie Lois had christened a new hero, as she was prone to do, and like it or not the name had stuck and Mara Kal-El was known to the world as Ultrawoman. 

She joined them at the table with her cup of coffee. Clark watched with knowing humour as habitually she perched herself on the chair that was illuminated by a suntrap. She loved the high powered role of business woman, but she loved flying, loved the thrill of the direct solar energy on her skin. She had done so since she was a little girl.

He remembered…

It was a summer’s day; the family was out by the pool. The grandparents were sitting in the gazebo drinking lemonade. Clark and Bruce were lounging on sun loungers while Ryan and Guardian swam in the blueness of the pool, splashing and playing fetch with a tennis ball. As Bruce talked about some case work, Clark kept an eye on the darling of the family. The three year old Mara was on the grass, looking at some butterflies that were hovering around a bush. 

Suddenly she laughed at seemingly nothing, and then thoughtfully she began squinting up at the sun. Clark smiled slowly as he saw her little mind work something out. Then Mara in her little summer dress, with her head back and her face tilted up to the sun began spinning in slow circles, laughing as the sun’s rays danced over her delicate skin.

Over and over, she did it, until she caught Bruce’s attention, and he called, “What’re you doing lady?”

Suddenly, she stopped and then ran over to her fathers and she announced, “Daddy…”

Bruce asked, “What is it Sweetie?”

Mara giggled, and laid her head against Bruce’s, “The sun tickles me Daddy.” She told him.

Her daddy’s eyes widened with surprise.

Clark chuckled, and confirmed, “Yes it does Honey.”

Mara smiled at her dad so brightly, and Clark held out his arms, and she ran into them, he cuddled his clever little girl and whispered, “But it’s our secret okay?”

His little girl didn’t know what a secret was yet but she nodded along, “Our secret dad.”

Clark’s focus returned to the farmhouse kitchen, his grown up beautiful clever daughter noticed him watching her, and she tilted her head in question. Clark shook his and said disarmingly, “I’m just happy that’s all.”

Mara smiled. Ryan tore his attention for Bruce and met Clark’s gaze, and then pointedly glanced from Clark to Bruce and back again, a little playful leer on his face.

He chuckled at his cheekiness. He revealed, “Not just that, everything.”

 

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: Tea with Chronus 4/4  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiterose  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,888  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark and Bruce enjoy some small town hospitality.

~*~

He heard another sonic boom and then the scrabbling at the door before the door was nosed open. He chuckled, “He’s found you.”

Ryan glanced back over his shoulder to see his faithful Guardian enter the kitchen. Instantly the white dog’s attention was on the smell of food on the table. Bruce grumbled seeing the dog. Ryan ordered Guardian to sit down before he got too over-excited. At the command, the dog went and parked himself next to Bruce’s chair. Bruce rolled his eyes and grumbled, “What do you want?”

The dog wagged his tail and gazed up at him.

Ryan and Clark met each other’s gazed and smirked together. The dog had actually been Bruce’s idea. At the time of Ryan’s birth, Bruce had requested that the AI make a companion for Ryan. Bruce didn’t ever want his son to feel lonely growing up at the Manor. So they’d made a hybrid using DNA from a fur sample Ace’s and Shelby’s tooth - which Mom had saved as a keepsake of Clark’s beloved childhood dog. Both had been intelligent, and loyal and brave. For some reason Ryan’s Guardian had come out pure white, completely losing Shelby’s lovely rusty colour as well as Ace’s black and gold colouring.

The dog continued staring at Bruce.

Although his lifespan had been drastically extended, and he had a limited amount of superpowers to stay close to his master, Bruce was convinced that the dog had lost the cleverness of both of his genetic parents.

Although he was completely loyal to Ryan, and protective of Mara whenever the dog was in Bruce’s presence, he wouldn’t leave his side.

Clark laughed softly, “It’s in his DNA, he loves you Bruce just as much as Ace did.”

The two kids laughed along too. Ryan knowing Ace as an old dog, and hearing the story of Shelby their whole lives.

Guardian turned at the sound of Clark’s voice, and Clark reached out and rubbed his neck, and the white dog raised his chin in the air just like Shelby used to, “Aw you like that don’t you, pal.” Clark cooed.

As soon as he stopped Guardian’s eyes returned their attention to Bruce. Bruce shook his head, and relented and reached out and patted the dog. He pursed his lips and then offered the dog a piece of sausage from his plate. 

Ryan, Mara and Clark’s eyes met and they rolled them, they both knew what a softy Bruce could be. It wasn’t until they were older, and found out Batman’s reputation, that they realised that their doting daddy was a badass.

~*~

Later in the day after Ryan, Mara and Guardian had returned home, Bruce steered their pickup truck into their neighbour’s driveway, and parked alongside some other trucks and cars that they recognised that belonged to some nice folks that lived in their community. Although they weren’t much for company, they enjoyed getting out now and again. They got out the truck, and then made their way around the side of the house to the garden where they could smell meat already searing, and could hear some country music in the background. Clark nodded to their other neighbours and Bruce approached the lady of the house, and offered their contribution to the party. Annie Hudson took the bottle of wine, and gazed at it. She admonished, “You always bring such fine wine Mr K, much too good for our little ole barbecue.” 

Clark watched as Bruce tilted his head charmingly, “That’s because yours is the best barbecue we’ve ever had the pleasure of, ain’t that right Clark.”

He smirked witnessing his husband’s flattery. He agreed, “Yes dear, the best.”

Annie’s husband Roy, who was working the grill, with an apron on, came over and shook their hands, “How you doing Mr K?”

Bruce didn’t mention the arthritis, and nodded, “Struggling on.”

Roy smirked with fondness and said, “And you Mr Kent?”

“Fine, just fine.” he replied.

Their host urged, “Help yourselves to a plate.”

Clark and Bruce went and helped themselves at the table. They found a seat, then Clark nudged his husband, and goaded, “Best barbecue huh?”

His husband picked up a spare rib with a napkin, and muttered, “The real best barbecue was more than just the food; you know that.”

~m~

Across the field, the opponents stared at each other trying to psych their enemies out. The sun was high in the sky over the field. It was going to be a tough battle. Clark breathed deeply, on edge, ready for combat and then he let loose the battle cry. The ball was hiked and as it reached his hands, he sensed the tackle coming up from the side of the field, and he quickly tossed the ball to his running back Marol. Then the solid body hit him and sent him over, and they landed in a heap on the field. The air was knocked out of him, and he gasped in some breath and he shook his head at the guy who had sacked him. He groaned, “Shit, you’re not even supposed to be playing, you’re the referee.”

Bruce grinned down at him cheekily, “I saw you sweating, and I couldn’t resist it.”

Clark laughed and he turned his head, and used his hand to shield his eyes from the rosy sun’s glare and watched as his men managed to get a goal down field. He returned his gaze to Bruce and smiled smugly, “My side still won.”

“I think they’re all your side, you taught them all to play.”

He grinned, “I did, didn’t I? And maybe I’ve started a new feast day tradition.”

From down the field, came the cheering winners, Algo came over wiping his sweaty forehead, “Are you two well my mentors, you are not hurt?”

They laughed and nodded, “Yeah, we’re great.”

Clark asked, “Did I see you get the touchdown Algo?”

Algo straightened his shoulders proudly, “Yes I did.”

Bruce said, “Go and get your reward from your husband.”

Their friend shook his head and grinned, “Come and get some food before it is all gone.”

Bruce murmured, “We’ll be there in a minute, tell Jodan to save us some.”

Algo sighed wearily and went back over to the trestles with food on them, and spoke to Jodan who hugged him. Bruce smiled down at Clark and then he leaned in and kissed him, Clark happily returned his kiss. Then Bruce whispered, “Happy anniversary Sweetheart.”

Clark whispered, “Happy anniversary Beautiful.”

From across the way, they heard Jodan grumbled, “Look at them, they are not coming, they are just going to lay there and mess about as they always do.”

They chuckled and smiled into his each other’s eyes…

~m~

He grinned, and then took a bite of his own grilled meat. He spoke around the lump of pork in his mouth, “We never did find out what those animals were did we.”

Bruce chewed slowly, thoughtfully. “If you want to know we could still find out. I’ll message Algo when we get home if you want.”

Clark stared at him. 

Unknown to any visitor, the den at the Kent Farm had a computer that was still hooked up to the Fortress, the computer in the cave and Watchtower mainframe so that it was possible to contact their old friends on Anteros II. It was also so Bruce could be nosy, and check up on the next generation. The problem with his suggestion was the same just as in the past; Clark didn’t want to know the mystery meat’s identity. 

Then he caught his husband’s old twinkle in his eyes. He’d always found Clark’s discomfort amusing. He glanced at the hostess of the garden party, and then jibed in return, “Shall I go over there and tell her that, that wine isn’t the finest wine you could bring her, Mr K?”

His husband scowled, “Hush, its fine enough for a backyard barbecue.”

He smirked at winning that one, and continued eating his food.

~*~

Later on another car pulled in, and the Hudson’s boy came around to the garden, and with him was Mindy the waitress from the diner.

She smiled when she saw her two favourite customers; she waved and went to get some food. Then Mindy and Jack Hudson sat together, and chatted and smiled at each other, clearly with great affection between them. Clark looked across at the young high school couple who would be soon returning to Smallville High for their senior year. Clark said to Jack’s mom Annie, “I didn’t know Mindy, and your Jack was an item?”

Annie revealed, “That’s right, last semester Mindy was nice enough to help tutor Jack, help him keep his grades up, being on the football team and all. I think they just clicked, you know what I mean.”

Clark and Bruce caught each other’s eyes and Bruce winked at him. Clark smiled bashfully. They knew all about clicking with someone you worked with.

Sitting near them too, Roy commented, “Right pretty girl; can’t blame my son.”

Annie poked her husband’s side disgruntled at his comment about the school aged girl. In the summer sun, the dark haired boy pulled off his t-shirt to enjoy the rays. Jack Hudson had grown into a very handsome young man. Bruce tilted his head and whispered to Clark, “Right pretty boy too.”

He was so relieved that Bruce had gotten over his ridiculous jealousy from yesterday, and was being playful. When he pulled away, Clark shook his head with a smile quirking his lips, and mouthed, “Dirty old man.”

Bruce chuckled, and shrugged, “I’ve still got eyes.”

Annie and Roy looked questioning at their secretiveness, but Clark wasn’t going to tell them what they’d really been saying about their son, and make them feel uncomfortable. He commented instead, “She must be a smart girl to be tutoring other students.”

“She must be.”

“Your Jack is coming by to do some chores for us.” He remembered.

~*~

The following morning, Bruce was taking his turn around the meadow as he did every morning, and Clark was in the den just about to sit down at his laptop to see if inspiration would strike. Maybe today he could get another chapter of his latest novel out of his head and down in print so to speak. He heard a knock on the back door. Not wanting to go to the trouble of getting up from his chair, now he’d sat down he called out, “Come on in.”

He reached for and pressed the remote control, and then Bruce’s mini crystal based supercomputer that was hooked up to the Watchtower, the computer in the Batcave, and the AI in the Fortress, folded away and hid itself pretending to be a simple bookcase. 

A few seconds later, he heard footsteps, and an unsure, “Mr Kent?”

“In here.” He called.

Jack Hudson the neighbour’s kid appeared in the doorway of the den. “Oh hi.” he said.

Clark looked away from his laptop screen, and met Jack’s gaze. “Hi.”

The young man folded his arms and then put them down at his sides, and then he wringed his hands. Clark smiled at the nervous body language. Jack glanced at him, “So what chores do you need me to do.”

He and Bruce hadn’t really talked over what odd jobs Jack could do around the place. They were both stubborn individuals and neither wanted to admit they needed some whippersnapper coming over and doing their jobs for them. However, this wasn’t about them, it was about giving Jack some money to spend on his girl. He deferred, “Wait until my husband comes in and we’ll think of something. Make yourself at home.” he motioned to the couch in the corner.

Jack didn’t take a seat. He glanced around, and wondered, “Where is Mr K?”

“He’s doing a circuit of our meadow.” He revealed.

The high school boy’s eyes widened slightly, “Circuit, um walking?”

Clark grinned, “No, jogging.” He saw the surprise in the boy’s eyes and Clark chuckled, “We’re not dead yet, kid.”

Jack coloured bashfully, “Sorry I didn’t mean…” he trailed off.

He watched as the boy glanced around the den again. He saw him notice the champion’s trophy on a shelf in the corner. Vaguely recognising what it was the boy went over and peered at its inscription. He gasped softly, “Is this…?”

Clark nodded, “Smallville Crows, state champions.”

“You were the captain?” he asked with uncertainty mixed with awe.

He smirked, “Doesn’t that coach at the high school teach you jocks your school history?”

Jack laughed with a touch of embarrassment, “Well we know about it, we know the quarterback was Kent… I didn’t realise you were… man wait until I tell the team.”

Clark ducked his head. Damn that was all he needed twenty guys turning up wanting to chat about it. He heard another gasp, and glanced up and found the lad gazing at the framed medal on the wall. Jack glanced back, “This is a Pulitzer Prize, isn’t it?”

He nodded in confirmation, surprised that a high school jock knew what it was. Jack whistled, “Does Mindy know about this?”

“I doubt it.” he shrugged it off.

Jack grinned, “You’d be surprised.”

“Why…?” he wondered.

The girl’s boyfriend revealed proudly, “She’s hoping to be made editor of the school news website when school starts up again. She knows lots of cool stuff.”

Clark smiled in pleasured surprise at the news that the girl had an interest in journalism, “She works at the Torch no; I didn’t know that.”

Jack shrugged, “Keeps trying to get me to join up.”

He encouraged, “It wouldn’t hurt.”

The boy snorted, “Yeah quarterback/journalist.”

Clark revealed with a smirk, “I did it.”

The boy shook his head with esteem in his eyes, and then his eyes travelled the room, and his eyes landed on one of the set of prints Jimmy had taken, it was smaller than the one in the bedroom, and they wearing shorts in this one, sparring in the gymnasium at the Manor. He watched the athletic boy study the two muscular young men in the photograph. He swallowed hard with recognition, “Is that?”

“Yes that’s me and my husband. We were about thirty years old then.” He revealed fondly.

Jack nodded along, and then commented, “Man you both look ripped.”

He nodded, and warned, “There’s more to fitness than a six-pack.”

Jack nodded and glanced at him, and grinned crookedly, “Oh I know. Um I guess I just felt odd saying you both looked really great.”

Clark chuckled disarmingly, “It’s okay buddy, it’s true we did look good.”

Jack grinned and then motioned to the picture of them sparring, “So who won?”

He laughed, and admitted, “Bruce, Bruce always won.”

The boy’s grin softened, “You’ve been together a long time huh?”

He nodded. Then Clark gazed at the sweaty beautiful image of his husband on the photograph, and said thoughtfully, “We got married so quickly after we fell in love, but I’ve never regretted it, not once in all these years. It was the best decision of my life, because he’s the love of my life and that’s never changed.”

Jack nodded with an endeared look on his face, then his gaze drifted behind Clark, and Clark glanced over his shoulder and found his husband standing in the doorway. He saw in his timeworn eyes all the emotion and love from a lifetime together reflected there. Then Bruce shook his head, and said his voice raspy from being so choked up, “Silly old fool.”

Clark smiled lovingly, and then he pointed at Jack and explained, “The boy is waiting for his first job.”

Bruce glanced at Jack and then back to Clark. “I’ve got an idea. He can give the hot tub a drain and a going over.”

He chuckled at his audacity.

The boy stared at them in surprise, “You’ve got a hot tub?”

“Yeah, around the side of the house, we had it fitted when we first came to live here from Gotham.” Clark revealed. 

Bruce smiled smugly, and said with that old glint in his eyes, “Good therapy for old bones.”

Jack nodded along obliviously believing Bruce’s deceit. Then Clark said to Jack, “You heard the man.”

They watched as Jack Hudson left the den to go to the kitchen for the cleaning supplies. Then Clark got up and he approached Bruce and prodded him, “Old bones huh…?” 

Bruce grinned mischievously, “I thought we might like a dip later.”

Clark murmured huskily, “As Alfred would’ve said, you randy old bugger.”

His husband leaned in, and kissed him… 

Bruce bowed his forehead against Clark’s, “We might be old, but I’m not done with you yet, Sweetheart.”

Clark reached down and he lifted Bruce’s wrist to his lips, and he kissed the silver thread that tied their fates together. He revealed, “This is the greatest thing I ever did, I’ve loved growing old with you Bruce.”

“Arthritis and all?” Bruce asked.

“And all.” he confirmed sincerely.

 

The end of Tea with Chronus as well as the end of the Anteros Series

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone, I hope you all enjoyed this series. Truly I had no idea that I would be working on it for so long, or that it would turn out to be my longest story. I loved this version of them so much. 
> 
> This is my sixth year writing fanfiction, I've never had a plan, I've never been prolific like some fanfic writers are, I just go with what I think is interesting whether that's something short or a few chapters. I've never kept track of how much I write but as I bring this consuming series to a close, the AO3 word count stats tell me with this last chapter I've just written one million words so far. LOL!
> 
> Honestly, as the years have gone on, the ideas are slowing down, :) I doubt I'll get to two million words but I'm not finished yet. ;D


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